


how long has my heart wept for yours (and gone silent)

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, no battle of the binary stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: Her captain has never looked at her like that, like a stranger. She’s never looked at Michael like she’s no one to her.





	1. Falling

Captain Georgiou looks at her like she’s waiting. What for, Michael doesn’t know. She doesn’t ask, not outright. Humans don’t tend to like blunt questions like vulcans do. A negotiation is required. A push and pull works best. It took time for Michael to learn this, to master a tact humans need. Many accuse humans of being blunt but she finds it to be quite the opposite. She’s spent time trying to ascertain what that particular expression meant. She never did find out. Not until it was too late.

The captain only wears that particular expression at odd times. Michael is never sure what will cause that expression and she finds herself wanting to avoid it. It makes her usual hopeful captain look regretful. She looks so tired whenever Michael does something to inspire the look that it rends Michael in two. An issue of its own.

She usually can manage her vulcan and human heritage. She can blend logic and emotion depending on the situation. Captain Georgiou would rather more human bleed through. No, the captain is happy when she is herself. She doesn’t wish for Michael to change but she likes when she shows more emotion than she does during most interactions. When Michael volunteers to go out alone, that expression flashes over her captain’s face. It’s quick, gone as quick as it comes. She thinks the captain has noticed Michael’s worry. Noticed that Michael sees the expression and tries to fix it. She hasn’t seen it as much recently, the woman careful not to show it. Perhaps Michael just got better at not causing it. She isn’t sure. 

When Michael is getting suited up, the captain is there. It’s an anomaly. She shouldn’t be here. She never is during missions. She should be on the bridge. She should be in the captain’s chair. Instead, she’s here. With Michael. 

“Captain?” Captain Georgiou’s face is shrouded. Not by an object but by an emotion. Michael meditates often to sort through and process her emotions. She isn’t unaware of them. She isn’t oblivious as many believes vulcans to be. She’d argue she’s more in touch with her feelings than many of her crewmates. That doesn’t translate to understanding other people’s emotions. She has to know a person and learn to understand them. She categorizes their expressions to their actions to better understand what they’re feeling. She knows her captain the best. She can understand exactly how her captain will react to a situation, she knows the expressions she’ll make when saying certain sentences. She knows the way her eyebrow twitches up when she’s amused. It’s not a smooth raise of the brow as she’d like one to believe but a series of twitches, as if her eyebrow itself is too amused to rise on its own. She’ll bite back curses if cadets are nearby, not out of need to look professional but in order to protect their ears. She wants more than anything to protect her crew. 

“I’ll see you when you get back Number One.” It’s too thick, too emotional. She’s taking a risk but it isn’t anything outside of the norm for them. They take risks all the time. They’ve been in worse situations. She’s about to ask when her captain turns and leaves. She’s shaken. Shaken to her core. She’s never seen her captain act like this and something is wrong but she doesn’t have the time to figure it out. She finishes gearing up and heads out. 

As predicted, she loses comms. Her captain’s comm is on the entire time. She can hear Captain Georgiou breathing into the comm until it cuts out. It’s steady, too steady. The breaths are measured and Michael feels her resolve crumble. She wants to establish a private channel and ask her what is happening, why is she so bothered, but she can’t. Then her comms are gone. 

She sees something in the distance and is met with a decision. Turn back and establish comms or approach the object. Time is precious. She needs to clear the field. She approaches the object. It’s a ship, or at least debris. She lands on it and starts scanning its hull. The scanner pings a lever, possibly a away in, and she pulls it. She feels it before she sees it. The bay opens, door sliding open beneath her. She’s not dropped into the ship, that’d be inaccurate, she’s pulled. Sucked in by something she can’t see but she can feel. It’s a maw in space. An abyss so unending Michael feels a scream build in the back of her throat. Everything is dark, she’s still falling. She sees the light from the doors she fell through getting further and further until she can no longer see them. Everything is dark. Darker than any black she’s ever seen. Darker than space and night. 

She tries setting her jets to their maximum speed to escape but they do nothing. The pull continues. It’s an instinct. This fear. She’s never felt it before. Not during the many times she’s been shot at, not during the attack when she was a child, never. Phaser burns can be healed, bombs can be survived, this force has no protocol. She’s no option but to be pulled further and further in. Into what, she doesn’t know. She feels like she’s being consumed. 

With a pop, she’s shot out. 

Light floods from all around blinding her, the jets which had been set on maximum speed brutally throw her around a closed space. She quickly ceases the jets collapsing onto the floor. Everything hurts and she coughs through the pressing pain in her abdomen. She looks up and is met by phasers. Her head is spinning and the lights are still too bright. She isn’t sure how long she was in the dark. She’s surrounded by Starfleet personnel but she hadn’t entered a Starfleet ship. 

“Where am I?”

“You’re asking us? You just appeared and shot around!”

“Something’s wrong.” 

“I’d say that’s an apt statement. Who are you?” A new voice but an old voice. Michael is afraid to turn and look, afraid to see what she already knows. 

“Captain.” It’s a statement, not a question. She doesn't need to be told that’s Captain Philippa Georgiou. She knows her captain better than she knows anyone. She’s young, younger than Michael has ever seen. Michael has a horrible inkling of what’s happening. She can’t stop seeing her captain’s expression, that knowing mournful expression. She knew, she knew what was going to happen. She had to. It makes sense. It makes so much sense and Michael felt her heart wrench. 

“Have we met?” She looks confused. She looks at her like she’s a stranger. Michael’s hand clenches around her damaged midsection. Her captain has never looked at her like that, like a stranger. She’s never looked at Michael like she’s no one to her. 

Her captain has always known she’d be sent back here, back through time. The only question is, what happens to her?


	2. Waking

_Her breathing is labored and her arms are shaky. She’s sore and tired. She wants to stop swinging but she thinks of the village. She swings harder. Her captain is busy at the river or she’d be here too. She’d be laughing at the rate of which the locals surpass her. Tease her over her lack of physical endurance. The locals themselves hide what she assumes are laughs. The distortions from the valves in their throats make it sound more like a skipping chirp than a laugh but she knows when she’s being laughed at. At least they try to hide their amusement, the concept of embarrassment must be practiced here as well. If her captain were here she has no doubt she wouldn’t have been subtle, she wouldn’t have protected Michael’s pride. She’d have teased Michael until she got the desired reaction. It isn’t often Michael is overcome by embarrassment but her pride is a strong core of who she is. She knows she should work harder at eliminating it, replacing it with more appropriate emotions, but it stays around. Pride and confidence born from experience. She’s proved how good she is, she knows how good she is. Which is why she’s lucky her captain isn’t here. She’s falling behind and it is a rare enough scenario to cause her to flush._

She feels herself waking, her numbness fading. Dreams that had distracted her gone, the memories that are held within tucked safely away. She hates this feeling. The ghost of wounds. Before she had passed out her body was riddled with breaks and strains. They’ve been wiped away. As if they don’t exist. As if it never happened. 

The murkiness fades and feeling returns to her limbs. Looking around she finds herself alone in the medbay. She might not feel the pain she should but she remembers. She remembers the hungry dark and what came after. Her captain but not quite. She needs to get back, away from whatever situation she’s found herself in. 

She rises and examines the room. She isn’t restrained and there are no guards. That leaves two likely possibilities. They’re either overtrusting and foolish, which Michael doubts if her captain is in charge, or that she is restrained but she can’t see them. She tosses her pillow across the room but it is stopped near her bed. Just as she thought. She doesn’t have weapons, she’s been stripped of her gear. She doesn’t have any obvious panels to manipulate. She could try to argue with the VI to lower the shields but it would be a long shot. 

The door opened and three people walked in. The captain, a medical officer, and a security officer. “Trying to stage a jailbreak?” It’s light and teasing, familiar. She hates it. Hates how similar this Georgiou is to her captain. 

“Mind handing me my gear?” Even the answering smile at Michael’s response is familiar as well. She needs to stop comparing, remembering. It hurts her heart in a new way, a way she’s never experienced. Like all new types of pain, she hasn’t built up a tolerance to it. Every strike is a scalding pain, burning and leaving her scarred. She doesn’t know why it hurts her as it does. She’ll meditate on it later. It has no place here.

“Your gear is interesting.” Interesting doesn’t mean interesting. Humans have many meanings for simple words. Interesting should mean exactly that, intriguing or of the same vein. Georgiou doesn’t mean that. She means different, odd, she’s trying to get Michael to explain its peculiarities. 

“It’s not that interesting captain.” She doesn’t know how to go about this, being trapped in the past. There have been several different training modules on time travel, they conflict against each other. There are different instructions given, different procedures to follow. The general consensus is to preserve the timeline. Limit interaction with any sentient species, do not affect major events, get home as quick as possible. She must strive to follow these commands. Some argue it is impossible not to change the past, that it is impossible not to alter the universe. She must do as she has been taught. 

“It’s Starfleet, as is the uniform you were wearing.” 

“She also addressed you as captain.” The security officer offers. 

“Can only Starfleet properly address rank?” It’s aimed at the security officer but intended for the whole room. Lying, a concept she finds distasteful. Normally Georgiou could see through her lies, cut through her empty words to find her truths. She could entice and soothe Michael’s truths out. After their rocky beginning she found herself confiding in her captain in ways she’s never done before. She encouraged the truth from Michael but could still see through her lies on the rare occasion they arose. There’s none of this insight now. 

“That doesn’t explain the suit.” Georgiou isn’t letting the matter settle. 

“You can get anything on the market.” 

“Impersonating Starfleet personnel is a crime.” The security officer cuts in again. 

“I wasn’t using it for impersonating purposes.” She has to hold her urge to let her words become sharp back.

“What were you using it for then?”

“Costume party.” The word party trips awkwardly over her tongue. 

“I don’t believe you Michael.” Michael’s head snaps to Georgiou, her control slips. “Your name is on your badge.” She’s asserting her knowledge. She knows Michael is lying and is exposing her. She’s giving Michael enough space to tie herself up in her own lies. Michael was wrong, even this Georgiou can see through her lies.

“I’m into authenticity.” She still continues to lie as useless as it may be. Lies that are known to be lies are still safer than the truth. All her training says to lie so she lies. 

Georgiou smiles at her. It is definitely at her, it’s pointed. Her kindness is weaponized at its softest curve. She’s seen this expression on her captain before. It’s usually aimed at officers who wrongly question Georgiou’s decisions. She heard an engineer once call it Georgiou’s cat that caught the canary expression. Michael prepares herself for whatever ace Georgiou believes she has. “I’m afraid I have to let you know you’re not as good at authenticity as you believe.” She stops. The trap is set. She wants Michael to ask, wants her to set it off herself. It’s a side of her captain she doesn’t often see.

Her captain takes matters lightly. Humor and sarcasm are quick to rise. She doesn’t savor the chase, the entrapment, quite the same as this Georgiou. She enjoys victory, thrives in it, but doesn’t relish in dangling opponents as she is now. She steps into the trap. “How so?”

“Your scans don’t match this universe.”

Michael’s mind stalls.

She’s been trained to hide, to lie, to escape back to her time. She can’t do that. Georgiou is on her trail, lies are unfolding. Georgiou always uncovers her truth.

“I’m displaced in time.” She breaks training, leaves logic behind. Georgiou is her exception. Her captain often leads her to break logic. Where logic fails, Georgiou does not. The medical officer sighs and nods to Georgiou and Georgiou for her part shakes her head. A peculiar interaction, an odd reaction to time travel. 

“I bet the captain you were displaced in time.” The medical officer says. It’s the first time he’s said anything since entering the room. 

“Of course we didn’t bet. That’d be against regulations.” 

“You bet on this?” She’s...incredulous. Well and truly incredulous. She’s been tossed into a world far from her own and they’re trading bets. She feels anger lick its way into her heart as well.

“Michael, we’ve had your scans since you passed out. We’ve discussed the possibilities until we were speaking ourselves in circles.” She had to lighten the subject. That’s what she’s conveying. The need to put her crew at ease when an uncontrollable variable is onboard. She lets the anger go.

Georgiou will always put her crew and their well-being first. Even if it's as simple as a bet to calm the crew.

“I see.”

“How’d you get here?” It seems the medical officer takes over.

“I shouldn’t say. Telling you anything from the future could endanger the timeline.”

“We can’t help you if we don’t know how you got here Burnham.” She knows he’s testing her, not using her rank since she won’t speak of her life.

“Who says I’ll need your help?”

“You think you’ll get back to your time on your own? You appeared here for a reason Michael.” Georgiou sounds disappointed, she doesn’t let it unease her. 

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Have you considered trying to do it alone will take longer? Further destabilize the timeline?” Sensing Michael hesitance she pushes. “Surely Starfleet procedure would prioritize a speedy return instead of a solo mission. Besides, you’d be working with Starfleet.”

“I was on a solo mission when this happened.”

“More proof that you should utilize our help.”

That wasn’t the point she intended to prove but she walked into that. “I saw ship wreckage. I investigated it and opened the bay doors. I got pulled in and then i was on your bridge.” 

“That’s all?” There’s also the fact Michael serves as her first officer but she isn’t sharing more than necessary.

“That’s all.” Georgiou doesn’t believe her, that much is obvious, but this time she doesn’t call her on it. 

“We have quarters prepared for you since we won’t know how long this will take.”

“I see. You trust me with your crew?” 

Georgiou’s answering smile is curved and vicious. “Of course.” Michael knows her stay won’t be unmonitored, unguarded. Although she is a first officer in Starfleet, they have little reason to believe her. It occurs to her that they may believe she isn’t even Starfleet. She could be anything, anyone. A spy, a soldier, an enemy.

That’s why she follows Georgiou without complaint. She needs their trust, she needs to earn their good graces so she can move without shackles. She needs to find her way out of here and she won’t with them watching her every move.

“It’s nothing fancy.” It’s a room for cadets but anyone who had been here is moved out. There are signs of living so Michael assumes they were moved while she slept. They probably don’t trust her alone with cadets.

“Thank you.”

“Sleep well Michael. Tomorrow we’re gonna see if you’re up to Starfleet standards.”

“You’re going to test me?”

“Of course. It’s important everyone on the Shenzhou is capable.” Georgiou intends to prove whether or not she really is Starfleet. 

She lays down in bed and feels the drag of sleep despite having recently awoken. Even though her wounds are ghosts now her body still needs the sleep to recover. 

She has a captain to impress tomorrow.


End file.
